


First Experience

by Ruruu137



Series: Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2018 [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Day 4, Gen, Parent!lock, Sherlolly Appreciation Week, inspired by a tumblr post
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 06:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13898355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruruu137/pseuds/Ruruu137
Summary: Sherlock had an unfortunate night of bringing an unwanted guest to a crime scene, to the disapproval of anyone around him.





	First Experience

**Author's Note:**

> So this was inpired by a Tumblr post/headcanon where Sherlock had to bring a child to a crime scene and had his deductions interrupted by said child's request to go potty. I find the image so adorable, so I thought maybe the child's his and Molly's?
> 
> Also, I think others may have attempted to expand this headcanon into a fanfic, so I apologize if this is the hundredth fanfic with the same headcanon that you had to read. Nevertheless, I thought maybe I wanted to share my own version of how it might've gone down...
> 
>  
> 
> One more thing, if you're confused to the title, I meant for it to refer to mini-Sherlock/Molly's first time of going to a crime scene.

* * *

 

 

"Is he coming, sir?" one of the police officers asked.

 

Lestrade could only sigh. "Of course he's coming. Just...a little late, 's all."

 

Donovan was skeptical. She rolled her eyes before saying, "Are you sure, sir?"

 

Before Lestrade could say anything else, the three of them saw a cab pulled up a few blocks away from the crime scene. Sherlock Holmes's figure was unmistakable; his tall, lean figure exited the cab in no hurry, his expensive Belstaff coat swished in the wind.

 

Another unmistakable silhouette the three of them saw was that of a child.

 

"A bit late, are we?" Lestrade jested as Sherlock approached them.

 

"Wasn't supposed to go out tonight," was Sherlock's only reply. He gestured to the sleeping child in his arms. "Her mum's covering up for someone tonight, and John's already busy with his daughter, so..."

 

Lestrade refused to hear any more excuses; it's not that he didn't understand (he sure did), but because he did not want the crime scene to get unintentionally more contaminated by other officers. "Yeah, yeah, alright. Just go in."

 

"Are you joking, Geoffrey?" Donovan almost laughed at the appalled look on Sherlock's face. "With her?" Once again, he gestured to the sleeping child.

 

Lestrade sighed in annoyance. "Well, where else are we supposed to go then?"

 

“We can stay outside.”

 

Donovan sneered, “And how are you going to show off your powers when you don’t even see the body?”

 

Sherlock sneered back at her, “I’ve heard enough of this case from Lestrade and that one reporter you couldn’t manage to remove from the crime scene.” Donovan and the other officer turned to the lone man standing far away from them, snapping photos of the four (or five, including the child) talking outside of the building where the jewels had gone missing and a dead body was found.

 

Without missing a beat, Sherlock started spouting out his deductions. “Judging from the way the man was ‘stabbed erratically’, as George had mentioned, the thief didn’t plan to murder him. His, or her original plan was to steal the jewels and escape as soon as possible, but that plan was left useless since the man came in at the wrong time, and the thief had to use whatever tool, or weapon, they have in their hands to dispose of any witnesses. Grant said the stab wounds are small and slightly round-shaped, so that excludes knives of switchblades. His shoes are currently missing and, according to Gilbert, the thief must’ve taken it. I’m afraid the answer’s no, Garth, since there’re simply no reason for the thief to steal the shoe, unless the shoe’s made of rare, expensive leather and cannot be found easily in any department stores in the UK. Then there’s also the point where our dead friend was lying down on his stomach. If he had known any other, which I doubt he had, he should know that lying backwards is easier and can possibly help him to stay alive much longer; judging from the response time of your officers, Gil, maybe he could’ve given you the description of the thief. But he’s dead, so there’s nothing we can do about that…”

 

At that moment, both Sally and the other officer noticed the child who had rested her head on Sherlock’s shoulder had stirred awake. She lifted her head and looked around her. Donovan gave her a small, kind smile as their eyes met (to Donovan’s surprise, the child’s eyes were a mix of blue, grey and green). Instead of wailing for being in such a strange place, she simply rested her head back onto Sherlock’s shoulder. The consulting detective did not realize that his three-year-old has woken up; he was still rambling on his preliminary deductions of the case when the child leaned in to his ear and whispered quietly.

 

Sherlock stopped mid-rambling and listened closely to what his daughter was saying to him. After the child had stated what was on her mind, both of them pulled back slightly, and Donovan was (begrudgingly) in awe as Sherlock stared at the brown-haired child in his arms with so much warmth and love (he had looked at his wife with the same expression, as Donovan had seen several years ago).

 

Sherlock then turned to the officers, the warmth in his eyes quickly disappeared and was replaced with a look of disappointment, mostly to Lestrade and Donovan, to the latter’s disgust. What came out of his mouth next was totally unexpected to the three officers.

 

“Of course there’re still many things that could’ve gone wrong thanks to the way you officers had handled this place and the body, but I will continue later. For now,” he turned to Donovan, “where’s the nearest bathroom? Amelia wants to go potty.”

 

~*~

 

Molly rubbed her eyes tiredly and she sighed for the twenty-second time. Sherlock stared at her with a straight, unapologetic expression.

 

“So let me get this straight,” Molly finally said after he had concluded his tale. “Everyone was busy, apparently, so when Greg had to call you out to the crime scene, you brought our daughter along to see the dead body?”

 

Molly’s voice rose at the end of the sentence, causing Sherlock to wince uncomfortably. But he smiled innocently.

 

“No…” His smile was still visible as he said that. Noticing Molly’s disapproving glare towards him, the smile quickly disappeared. “I left her to one of the officers as I went to examine the body.”

 

Molly rubbed her forehead this time, suddenly feeling a headache was coming. “Oh, God. What if there’re germs on that officer’s body? What if Amelia’s exposed to any dangerous bacteria in the air?”

 

“No worries, I’ve checked her as soon as we arrive home and I can safely say that she’s not gonna have a flu in the next few days and she’s gonna be fine.”

 

Molly sighed. She was angry, yes, but overall, she was tired. Why did Sanjit’s mother had to fall down the stairs today out of all days? Not that Molly could blame him, but still…

 

Molly sighed again. Sherlock was beginning to get worried, especially when he saw how Molly’s body was swaying while she was standing as if she was a delicate figure being blown by the wind.

 

“Stop sighing, Molly. Look…I’m sorry. If Mrs. Hudson had not been busy tonight, I would’ve left Amelia to her. There’s no one else to call at such late at night, hell I think even Mycroft refused to be bothered now that his wife’s pregnant…”

 

Molly quickly sat down on Sherlock’s lap, shushing him. “I’m too tired to argue right now,” she mumbled as she rested her head on Sherlock’s shoulder. “Can we do that tomorrow morning?”

 

Sherlock smiled reassuringly. “I think afternoon’s better, from the way you almost collapsed as you came in through the door.”

 

Molly hummed in content and slowly fell asleep. Sherlock carefully lifted her in his arms and carried her to their bedroom. Amelia, unfortunately, was still wide awake.

 

After putting Molly down on the bed, Sherlock approached his daughter and smiled at her as he picked her up to lull her back to sleep.

 

“Daddy in trouble?” she asked in a worried voice.

 

Sherlock could only smile. “I’m afraid so, my dear.”


End file.
